Translation
by Zoken
Summary: Just Imagine, Zoken brings DC heroes to new life in the Marvel-verse. with guest stars like Spider-man and The Beyonder. currenlty on the agenda; Green Lantern, Superman, Wonder Woman
1. Light of Hope

There are certain heroes who are the stuff of legends. Their powers are incredible. They just had the misfortune to wind up in DC's arms and get mushed into a quick muscle bound moron. This is my way of creating a new legacy. Welcome to the Marvel-ized DC heroes. These are non-OC OC's that exist in the Marvel universe.  
  
Light of Hope  
  
Gerald Levine was not what any sane person would pick for a hero. Gary was sixteen, moody, and constantly depressed. He listened to music by Marilyn Manson, and Voltaire, and other such artists. He wore black consistently. He wore make-up to darken his pale features. His clothes were adorned with metal studs and barbs. He was an airport security officer's worst nightmare and a standard issue high school Goth.  
  
In fact if you asked around, no one would have anything good to say about Gerald. He had no friends, his family was worried about him, and he frightened his own teachers. But there was one thing he had done, one decent thing, in his life that had made him, for just one moment a hero. When he was ten, before the leather and metal of his Goth period, he knew a girl, her name was Sarah. He was playing in the snow one day and she was out on the pond skating. She fell through a hole in the ice. Gerald immediately leapt up and rushed to the spot. He thrust both hands into the icy water and began to pull her out. She couldn't work her way out and the hole was quickly freezing over. So he had to sit there holding her head above the freezing water while an adult came and helped. They were both fine, except for a cold. She gave him a kiss and said he was a hero.  
  
Things went down hill after his father's drinking got out of hand. His father started beating his mother, but she had the sense to file for a divorce immediately. That was when he began to change. He about the time his father got violent, Sarah Southers, the girl he had saved, moved away. It was as if she had taken a piece of his heart with her. He began to hate the world, the stupid violence that it caused, he began to fall into depression. He began to go dark.  
  
It was when he was five months, three days, after his sixteenth birthday. To be more specific it was October eleventh. He was walking out of school when he saw Donovan Corbin and a couple of the other jocks from the football team circled around a freshman. "Give it up!" he heard them jeer at the boy.  
  
One finally grasped the freshman and Donovan said, "This is how it works. I run the school, and you pay me for the privilege. Now fork over whatever you have. Cash, cell, food, I don't care, just give it up."  
  
Suddenly he found himself with a very sharp blade pressed to his throat. The blade was a switch knife. The knife was held by Gerald. "Let him go," Gerald growled gutturally. "or you all get to see what the inside of his throat looks like."  
  
Donovan spat back at Gerald as his buddies tossed the kid aside, "You freak, what are you doing? This has nothing to do with you!"  
  
"You are pathetic," was Gerald's simple answer as he walked away. He was one of the few skateboarders at school who actually locked his board to the rack. No one ever dared mess with it for two reasons; one they were afraid of him, and two recognizing it was no problem. You see the board was covered in unique hand drawn and markered designs. Gerald was an artist.  
  
His art was not pleasant or appealing. It was dark, it was sharp, it was harsh, and it was usually bloody.  
  
After this he was fairly sure he would get picked up by the police, wouldn't be the first time. He didn't care. He continued his walk home which was now a lonely walk. He lived in an area that no longer had any kids, it used to have Sarah, but she had moved. So his was a lonely walk. That was when he began to feel dizzy. Then he lost all consciousness.  
  
When he regained consciousness he took stock of his surroundings. The area was black and featureless. In fact if he didn't feel a floor beneath his body, he'd swear he were floating. There was nothing there that showed a horizon. He felt as if he were on a black piece of paper. Then he noticed the only other thing there; a man. The man was old and possessed a knowing look.  
  
"Good to finally make your acquaintance Gerald," said the old man.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" he said, then looked around again, "And for that matter, where the hell am I?"  
  
"You are in a place I prepared for you." The old man seemed to sound nice, but Gerald felt something was being held back. not shown. "You see Gerald, I have an offer to make to you, and please listen well. I offer you the adventure you have always dreamed of, and the power to do great things, but there is a catch."  
  
"Isn't there always," Gerald said sourly.  
  
"The catch is that you must follow the purpose you hold in your heart. You must use your power for good. Your adventure will lead you to be a hero. You will be the light of hope for those trapped within darkness, your luminescence will banish away the shadows of evil, you will."  
  
"I get it." Gerald was terse.  
  
"In short you will be a lantern. In fact you will be a Green Lantern."  
  
"Say what?" Gerald said beginning to walk around.  
  
"I will give you a Lantern which can power a ring. The ring will allow you to manifest your will through a green energy."  
  
Gerald sorted through his mumbo jumbo to realize what he was saying. "So what is the trick? What is the catch?"  
  
"Only this. Every twenty four hours you must recharge the ring. Now the ring can summon the lantern but if the ring is out of power, you cannot use the lantern to summon the ring." The old man seemed very strict about this.  
  
"And you want me to do it why?" he asked.  
  
"Because you are a diamond, or rather, an emerald in the ruff. You have the soul of a hero. This is your destiny."  
  
"But why me, there must be others more qualified."  
  
"But none," the man said opening his hand to Gerald, "are destined for this." In the old man's palm was a ring. It was grayish green from dust and didn't seem all that special.  
  
It felt so natural to Gerald to take the ring and put it on. It fit perfectly on his center finger, but it rubbed against a ring on his index finger which looked like Satan. Gerald slipped off the Satan ring. "I don't feel any different." He said.  
  
"there is an incantation, a spell" explained the old man. "It will also serve as an oath. Do not speak it lest you mean it." Said the old man.  
  
He began to recite; "In Brightest day, in darkest night; no evil shall escape my sight, lit by Green Lantern's light!"  
  
Gerald felt the ring grow warm and, almost without thinking he began to whisper. "In brightest day, In darkest night; No evil shall escape my sight, lit by Green Lantern's light!"  
  
He felt a jolt go through his body. When it ended he definitely felt different. He looked down at himself and found he was dressed differently. Before he had been wearing a black T shirt that read, "I hear voices, and they don't like you", black jeans, and a black leather jacket, and high tops he had markered black.  
  
Now he was dressed in a white ruffley-chested shirt under a Emerald green vest. He wore Black pants with black boots, such as one might find on a pirate. He also wore an emerald green leather jacked covered in studs that looked to be made of emeralds themselves. He could feel the energy the old man had spoke of earlier.  
  
The old man looked at him and said, "By speaking the incantation, you have accepted the responsibility."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Go, then and do good" Said the old man, and Gerald was returned to the real world. Meanwhile in the strange world the Beyonder said to himself, "Now to set the other side of the board."  
  
Back on earth, Gerald came to in the woods where he was walking home. He thought perhaps it had been a dream, till he saw the lantern beside him, and the ring on his hand. Now would begin his adventure. Greater, and more incredible than he could ever imagine. 


	2. Innocent Soul

His is the brightest name in all of superheroes. He is the most powerful. He is Superman.  
  
An Innocent Soul  
  
"Damned bureaucrats!" grumbled Jor El as he walked into his home. His wife, thirteen earth months pregnant, and barely showing waited fearfully for her husband. She rushed up to him, but his grim expression told her the story.  
  
"They didn't believe you?!" she cried in disbelief.  
  
"As long as they have that damned machine they wont listen to a word I say." He shook his head. "Our world is doomed, because of us. there are a million things we could do to save ourselves, yet they will do nothing."  
  
"Is there anything we could do Jor?" His wife asked fearfully.  
  
"With our budget and resources . . . I could build a ship, but it would only be big enough for one . . ."  
  
"I would never leave you here to die Jor!" she cried taking his arm.  
  
"To be honest my love, I wasn't thinking of you." He gave a meaningful look to her abdomen, which was only just beginning to swell.  
  
"So our son will live?" she asked.  
  
"Not just live," he said guiding her to his work shop. He activated a holographic display which showed a small blue planet in a system of nine around a star. "He will flourish."  
  
"That star Jor, its yellow." Kara pointed out.  
  
"Yes, that and many other aspects of the planet will have incredible effects on him."  
  
"Like what?" she asked.  
  
"Well their gravity is a great deal lower than ours is. Thus he will be very strong, and his bones will be virtually unbreakable as our atmospheric pressure is greater than it is on this planet. Also our bodies metabolize light, and the yellow light will raise his metabolism, giving him incredible speed. Also just being in the different light spectrums will give him a broader spectrum than the inhabitants. His X-ray vision will seem extraordinary and actually enable him to see through solid objects. Also his infrared vision will in fact emit infrared rays, heat beams Kara."  
  
"Well it seems that I have chosen the appropriate name for our boy then," said Kara sadly.  
  
"What name have you given him?" he asked.  
  
"Kal El," he responded thinking of the life growing within her. "It is from the old language. El, your last name means 'Man' or 'One who is' and Kal means 'Great' or 'Super'."  
  
Over the next twelve earth months, Jor worked night and day to finish his son's ship. Kara, who was a linguist and a personal device programmer, built the 'note to pin to his baby blanket' so to speak. She gave birth in the twelfth month, a healthy baby boy. He was slightly premature for a Kryptonian child, but healthy none the less.  
  
Two months later was the day. The lay little Kal in his ship and both parents kissed him farewell as they wept. They had waited for the last possible moment to send him so that the government would not force the ship back down. They held each close and felt the rumbling begin.  
  
"I'm scared Jor!" Kara yelled over the rumblings.  
  
"Me too Kara, me too." Jor held his wife close. They had been married since they were only children. For years they had struggled to make their marriage work, and truly were in love. But their lives were snuffed out as their world died in a terrific explosion that no one would ever hear.  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
TWO YEARS LATER  
  
"Hey Jonathan!" yelled Hiram Lang.  
  
"Hiram!" Jonathan Kent called back, "How the hell are ya?"  
  
"I'm good, I'm moving back to Smallville." Hiram beamed as he announced his return to Kansas.  
  
"Really?!" Jonathan was overjoyed at the idea of his childhood friend returning to the town that Jonathan had never left.  
  
"Yep, Kim and I decided that the city was no place to raise our daughter." Hiram's grin spread from ear to ear in a wide grin.  
  
"You have a daughter?!" Jonathan yelled.  
  
"Yep, Lana. She was born last spring.  
  
"Congratulations!" Jonathan yelled as he shook his friend's hand. Jonathan Kent was a kind and friendly man that almost the entire town of Smallville, some five hundred, counted as a friend. He lent his strength where he could and his wisdom where he thought it fit.  
  
"How about you and Martha?" he asked happily, expecting Jonathan to have mess of children.  
  
"How about Jonathan and me what?" asked Martha as she came up to her husband's side.  
  
"Honey, this is my old friend I told you about Hiram Lang. He and his wife are moving back to Smallville with their little girl."  
  
"I was just asking about how many children you two had," explained Hiram.  
  
"Er . . . I think I need to go check on June," Martha said uncomfortable and left.  
  
Hiram looked at her confused. Jonathan explained, "She can't have children. We tried for years, but . . . nothing. She is ashamed for some reason. I gotta go, Lot to do today. Sorry." Jonathan bid his friend farewell and got into his truck with his wife.  
  
They pulled up to his farm and greeted his loyal farm hand, Mac Ross. Mac was also blessed with a child, a boy named Pete. It was this very afternoon that the lives of those on the Kent farm were changed forever.  
  
It sounded like a clap of thunder. Then they noticed the falling star. It crashed loudly in the field, thowing a wave of burned cornstalks at them. As they made their way toward the smoldering crater there was no talking. The reached the rim and looked in. the ship looked like an egg for the most part with a pentagon jutting out around the edge. There seemed to be a top witch was made of glass. The glass was shattered and littered the crater.  
  
"Oh god!" Martha cried as she saw what appeared to be a baby boy. She rushed down into the bottom of the crater and swept up the child, brushing the glass off of him. "What in god's name is going on?" she asked of her husband.  
  
"Martha . . . I just don't know . . ." he said.  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
TWELVE YEARS LATER  
  
The young boy found in the crater by the lonely family was taken in and loved so much. He was named Clark, for Martha's maiden name. he was informally adopted. Three days later a tornado ripped through the town and in the chaos the little boys sudden appearance was not so unexpected. In the rubble of the crash site the Kent's and Ross' found many things, among them a small sphere the color of a cloud. When he was ten, they told him of his true origin. A year later, he told his best friend Pete Ross.  
  
He grew up so loved, that he was never in a fight. Hit; yes, insulted; yes, a social out cast; yes, but he never fought. He was a truly innocent soul. He was the epitome of the naïve farm boy. His gifts had been extremely useful in running the farm. But there were always a few things that could not be controlled. Idiots will always be among those things.  
  
A girl in town had been murdered. The only description of the killer had been "black". The most prominent black person in town was Mac. He had disappeared early one Sunday. June, his wife and Martha's best friend, Jonathan, Martha, Pete and Clark all went out looking for him. It was Clark that found him.  
  
It was in a clearing where an old church had stood. Long before Clark had arrived the church had burnt down. Now the local Klan used it as a meeting place. This was a public secret that the entire town of Smallville knew, but usually they were harmless drunks, so no one cared. As Clark came upon the clearing, he saw a large bon fire burning itself out. There were no white sheets left in the clearing, but there was a person there. Mac lay on the ground. Clark zipped up to him, using his superspeed.  
  
"Mr. Clark?" Mac asked. He had addressed all of the Kent's like this since he had first started working on the farm. He had always been quite subservient, despite being, apparently, the strongest person in Smallville.  
  
"Mac! Are you okay?" he Clark begged.  
  
"No sir Mr. Clark. I think I need a doctor."  
  
Clark clenched his fist "I'll kill those jerks!"  
  
"No!" Mac said and grabbed his wrist tightly. "You to good for that! You got a good soul."  
  
"But they can't do what they did!" he said, through tears.  
  
"You kill them you no better than them. . ." he coughed for a moment and blood came out. "Your soul don't need that. The world need you the way you are . . . good."  
  
It was an hour later on the trip to the emergency room that Mac died. The Klansmen were never arrested. Clark however always remembered that night. That night was the night he learned the difference between justice and vengeance.  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!  
  
EIGHT YEARS LATER  
  
Clark grew up to learn to use knowledge as a weapon. He had exposed racists in the town government using his high school newspaper, and won himself a full scholarship to NYU and an internship at the Daily Bugle. He was only working in the mailroom for now, but he was on the way. He was so happy.  
  
He had also decided, without his parents permission, to become a costume. He had had his girlfriend, Lana, design his uniform. It was red, yellow, and blue camouflage, with a tight Kevlar T-Shirt bearing the same symbol that was found in his ship. It resembled an "S" inside of an inverted pentagon. He had shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads, all bore the same symbol as his chest. On his face he wore a blue helmet with a yellow visor.  
  
His first day out he flew around and found a mugger but was right in the middle of trussing up two muggers in a street light, when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned around and saw no one, that's when the voice said, "Hey, fashion statement, up here." He looked up and his eyes widened.  
  
"Spider-Man!" he yelped. He pulled from a pocket Lana had sewed in, a note book. "Can I get your autograph?" he asked excitedly.  
  
Spider-Man looked at him skeptically, and at the notepad. "You're joking right?"  
  
"Um, no?" Clark said.  
  
"Let me get this straight; you, a costume, want my autograph?"  
  
"You bet!" Clark said.  
  
"Let me guess; just off the bus from Kansas?"  
  
"Erm . . . more or less, howdya guess?"  
  
Spider-Man shook his head sadly, "The accent, the . . . I think the word is naïveté. Although, I gotta admit, this is the best costume one of us has ever worn. Did you get one of the Fab four on this thing?"  
  
"Um, well sorta . . . I got friend in design."  
  
"Yeah . . . They just sling out union cards to everyone in odd colors these days don't they?"  
  
"heh, well at least I bring things to the table don't I?" he gesturing to the criminals trussed up in the street light.  
  
"Nice, is that and flying your only talents? Maybe a hyper-cornshucking power? Let me guess super cow milking?"  
  
Clark gave him a side long look, "You know I could set your head on fire by looking at it, or look through your mask."  
  
"Point taken. But what do you call yourself?"  
  
"I'm Super-Man!" he said proudly.  
  
Spidey chortled, the snorted, the accidently let go of his webbing and fell to the ground laughing. The criminals in the streetlamp were also laughing. Once Spidey composed himself he chuckled out, "That's the best you got!"  
  
"It means something to me! It's the name my birth parents gave me!"  
  
Spidey stopped dead. "Sorry. I know what parents birth parents can mean."  
  
Thus began the illustrious career of a legend. 


	3. Water, Metal, and Thunder

Okay this is going to diverge a lot more than normal. But I will do my best. This is of course Marvel-verse.  
  
Justice League and Others  
  
"I won't allow this!" Tony Stark growled across the table.  
  
"You don't have a choice in the matter," Alexander Luthor countered calmly. "Your armor schematics are unpatented, and frankly you are lucky that we don't patent them. Oh, and if your supposed bodyguard goes psychotic on my men like he has done before on others who use your technology, you will be the one receiving the lawsuit and warrant." With that he closed his brief case and walked out. "This was just a courtesy, our head designer, also one of our pilots; Dr. Irons thought it polite to tell the inventor. He's quite an admirer of yours."  
  
Stark growled lowly watching the man walked out. He was the CEO of a top security company. It had sprung up quite quickly, but Justice Corp. was a big earner. Tony suspected that it was a front, but its customers didn't care what the company did in the shadows. Its main customers lately were companies that were under attack from eco-terrorists. There were many groups out there that wanted to stop companies from polluting at any cost.  
  
Stark's objection was to the use of his armor design. It was creating a new line of techno soldiers; the Justice League of America they were calling it. Three soldiers designed to combat in difficult terrains.  
  
The first design was to combat attacks on at sea oil rigs. It was being called the Aqua-Man armor. It made use of hyper compression technology to compress enough water to fuel a fire hose for five hours into a solid the size of pear. These fueled two hoses mounted on the wrists. Also strength enhancements were placed in the arms and legs. Breathing apparatus installed in the helmet allowed the user unlimited time spent under water, as well as a turbine mounted on the legs allows for speed while underwater. A disc, also using the compression capsules, allows him to hover on a column of water. Also a retractable trident, for looks, was mounted on his waist. All of his weaponry used not a single spark; perfect for working around crude oil.  
  
The second design is for use around electrical plants using nuclear energy. He is known as Static. He must charge for twenty-four hours, but after that the suit can exude millions of volts for two days straight. He can use a magnetic field to levitate and fly. He is also completely insulated from electric shock, but the suit can be short-circuited, but only with AC, exceptionally rare. It can project a radio silence field, disrupting any signal not transmitted over a hard line. Also a magnetize program causes all loose metal objects to be taken from the hands of the owner and attach to the skin of the armor.  
  
The third was for ore mines. This armor was called Steel. It was had the greatest strength enhancement ratio of all three prototypes, and the Iron Man armor. It also had sonar emitters in the palm for seeing through solid rock to air pockets when there were men trapped. It had a hammer included in the design. It could bust through rock like nobodies business. Time was the only matter when it came to reaching trapped workers. The problem was it was a heavy suit due to the rescue pack and strength enhancements. It would take two feet of solid cement to support the suit.  
  
All three armors were operational and in use. The Aqua-Man armor was be piloted by a former SEAL by the name of Orin, retired at age thirty- three, now employed by Luthor Corp. The Aqua-Man armor was stationed at an oil rig owned by a subsidiary of Justice Corp. in the China Seas. The Static armor was piloted by Vigil Hawkins; an LAPD S.W.A.T officer retired at twenty-four with several commendations for bravery. He was now looking for money. He was receiving it at his post at a nuclear plant outside New York City. The last, Steel, was being operated by the Justice Corp. engineer who designed these armors; John Henry Irons. He had no official training, but he did grow up in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. Fighting came easier to Irons than engineering. Irons was being placed at a Kentucky iron mine.  
  
Two weeks after the heated board room argument, a problem arose. An organization calling itself Black Manta launched simultaneous attacks.  
  
"Stop Stripping our oceans of their life!" yelled the man calling himself the Manta Ray.  
  
"Is it just me?" Orin said sarcastically, "Or are you thirsty?" He fired a hammering blast of water at him.  
  
The Manta Ray twisted the around blast and drove a knife straight into Orin's side. Orin cried out in pain as it punctured one of the few panels on his suit that was purely decorative and deceptive. Orin's concentration faltered. The bleeding was bad. It could be fatal if he didn't get it looked at. He knew he couldn't fight like this. He programmed his disc and fell down upon it. It headed out with him being carried straight for shore.  
  
"Down with harmful nuclear waste production!" cried another Black Manta operative. "You're trashing our world!"  
  
"You are really boring me," said Hawkins. He fired two lightning bolts. But unfortunately both missed the man calling himself Shade.  
  
Shade threw a small metal orb at Static, it attached and began to emit an electric pulse. "What the hell?" exclaimed Virgil. All systems began shutting down. He fell to the ground completely immobilized.  
  
And finally in Kentucky, a Black Manta agent calling himself Copperhead shouted, "Quit raping our mother Earth!" as he began firing bombs into the mine.  
  
"Knock it off whack-job" said Irons as he knocked Copperhead across the field with one blow from his hammer.  
  
"They said you might be a problem," Copperhead sneered as he got up. He threw a metal disk the size of a hockey puck at Irons. It began to hum and attached itself to the wrist of the Steel armor. "What the hell is this?" then with that it released an electric surge and the other wrist slammed together. Copperhead threw another disc which immobilized his legs. Irons, now useless, but utterly invincible, was forced to watch as Copperhead destroyed the mine. The same fate Hawkins was sentenced to.  
  
Two days later, after Orin was picked up by a freighter and stitched up, after Hawkins was treated for near asphyxiation, and after the super- magnets were removed from Irons, the three pilots were sitting together to try and figure out what went wrong.  
  
"The thing I don't get is this," mused Orin, "that panel I was stabbed through, was made to look just like Kevlar. Only me and you," he said looking at Irons, "Even knew the panel was fake. Yet he stabs me right through there like that had been his goal all along. He didn't bother shooting at me or anything. Just the one stab."  
  
"Are you insinuating something Orin?" Irons said standing face to face with Arthur Orin.  
  
"Just that it is awfully suspicious, that you, our designer, was the only person to know our suits only weaknesses, and yet these guys knew them dead on."  
  
"That is something to think about," said Virgil Hawkins.  
  
"Well you can stop thinking about it," John-Henry Irons said tensely, "I didn't betray any of you."  
  
"Who else could it have been?" Virgil said, standing right beside Arthur.  
  
"I don't . . ." Irons paused. "Wait. There was one other person. He helped me design the suits. In fact he ordered me to build the devices that took Steel and Static down."  
  
"You mean Luthor?" asked Virgil.  
  
Orin looked down. "It would make sense."  
  
"How," asked Hawkins.  
  
"Simple," answered Irons. "Luthor plays both sides of the field, he gets both sides of the profit."  
  
"He sells to the company owners, so the terrorists want to up their game," begins Orin.  
  
"And who better to help them do so than the man who created their problem in the first place," completed Irons.  
  
"And then," jumped in Hawkins, suddenly grasping the Idea, "The company owners need to up the ante again, starting the whole cycle over again."  
  
"There's just one flaw in that plan for Luthor," Irons said.  
  
"Us," agreed Orin.  
  
"Say what?" asked Hawkins.  
  
"Think about it, we have the prototypes. And I," Irons held up a CD, "Have the only copy of the schematics. We weren't supposed to figure this out. in fact, I wouldn't have thought about it if you hadn't mentioned it Orin."  
  
"Wait, are you guys talking about rebelling on Luthor?" Virgil asked.  
  
"We have to," Orin said. "This guy is bad news. He is working both sides of the field. How long till he starts trying to maximize his profits by sowing the seeds of war?"  
  
"This guy is the only person paying us," Virgil said, "And we signed contracts."  
  
"You gotta do what you gotta do," Irons stated. "Me, these situations all ways get me to ask myself; what would the Devil do?"  
  
that statement led to an awkward silence. "Um, don't you mean, jesus?" asked Virgil.  
  
"Naw man. I grew up in Hell's Kitchen. I mean the Dare Devil. He kinda looks out for the neighborhood. The question here is what would he do in this situation. I gotta believe he'd turn trick on this guy bolt."  
  
"I'm with ya, I may be retired, but I still took that oath," agreed Orin. "Enemies foreign AND DOMESTIC. Well this is ona them damn domestic enemies."  
  
"I don't know man," worried Hawkins. "I lived with worse."  
  
"What you wouldn't care if he started sellin' his little noisemakers in your neighborhood?" asked Irons.  
  
"What . . ." asked Hawkins, "You mean like to kids . . . gang members?!"  
  
"Best place to make a profit," nodded Orin.  
  
"You talked me into it," Hawkins said with a dark expression.  
  
"Outta curiosity," asked Irons. "What convinced you?"  
  
"Gangs," he said grimly. "My mother and little sister were killed in a drive-by. The guys in the car couldn't read, and thought they were at the address of a rival gang's crack house."  
  
"Damn," said Orin solemnly.  
  
"So we're decided?" asked Irons. "Cause if he keeps even one armor, he might as well have them all. This has to be unanimous."  
  
"Yeah," said Hawkins.  
  
"Yes sir," responded Orin with a salute.  
  
In fifteen minutes they were suited up and in AWOL. They haven't been officially seen in three months, but there are reports of mysterious "metal-men" showing up at natural and unnatural disasters and rescuing innocents people. They are still reported to be using the titles their suits are given, and to be calling their squad, The Justice League of America. 


	4. Hunters

Translation  
  
Hunters  
  
They had been friends since they were children. Strawberry "Berry" Allen, Oliver Queen, Carter Hall, and Slade Wilson had all enjoyed their games together as children. They all grew into extremely strong athletes. They had all become hunters, and had a major prime time show produced together. Wilson managed the show's finances. They called themselves The Predators.  
  
Each had a specialty. Berry's specialty was her speed. She was faster than anyone in the Olympics, and often ran down whatever her quarry. She was a fiery red head that had one great vice. She was incurably lecherous. Even her close friends were not safe from her roving hands. She was even rumored to be bi, but she never confirmed or denied the allegations. She had an incredible body and a long red mane.  
  
Oliver Queen's specialty was archery. He had admired the hero known as Hawkeye his entire life, so he took up the same skill. They said he could hit any target from any range. He most often took out his targets from nearby trees. He liked working the way he did. He said that since there was no actual mechanics involved, it was more fair to whatever he was hunting. He was annoyingly strict about being fair. He was a tall one with blonde hair.  
  
Carter Hall utilized a hawk. He loved animals of all kinds. Anything he hunted he prayed to. He thanked if for dieing for him. Most thought him a little creepy, but his friends knew he just believed that everything had a soul, and hunting was an art. He also possessed blond hair, but blue eyes.  
  
Wilson's specialty was with firearms. He was an expert in all kinds of modern weaponry. He even bragged that he had studied the working of newer missiles and bombs. He was the kind of guy that, unless you knew him really well, you didn't want to share a room with him. Slade's hair was died a shining platinum.  
  
Incredibly all of this was accomplished before any of them turned seventeen. Slade was viewed as a prodigy, and the others as prodigiously talented. Oliver was the youngest, at fourteen, with Carter at sixteen, and Slade and Berry both at fifteen. They had a tutor to keep them up to speed on all of their studies. All the while they were all growing bored. Their hunts were no longer fulfilling their adolescent craving for adventure and fun. That was when someone made them an offer.  
  
"Ollie!" Berry called out. "I'm SO bored, can't we go to a club or something tonight?"  
  
"You know we can't," Oliver said, not even looking up from his book, Animal Farm. "Things being as they are, no one would buy any fake ID's you could come up with."  
  
"Argh!" Berry growled. "Do you have to be so straight-laced?" She plopped down next to him on the couch. After a moment a wicked smile spread across her face. "Of course," she said leaning against him. "We could find something to do around here." She ran a finger seductively down his chest.  
  
"Down girl. Bad Berry," said Carter as he walked in with Jeffery, his Hawk, on his shoulder.  
  
She leaned back. "I can't help it," she cooed. "I'm the fast girl alive, in more than one sense." She winked at Carter.  
  
"Attention on deck!" Slade yelled as he came in. "We gotta guest!" behind him, a large man walked in. he was more than just large, he was huge. Most would think he was fat, but the truth was Wilson Fisk was extremely strong.  
  
"This is Wilson Fisk," Slade introduced. "He said he has a proposal for us."  
  
"What kind of proposal?" Berry asked looking at him, she was randy, but not THAT randy.  
  
"I have heard that you all seek more... adventure in your lives," Wilson Fisk said with an unfathomable smile.  
  
"Well when you reach the top of your game at fourteen..." Oliver said with an uninterested smile  
  
"What if I offered to promote you to a new world. One where your wildest dreams can come true." Fisk's smile grew darker by the minute.  
  
"And in return?" asked Carter.  
  
"Maybe a favor or two, nothing any of you would have an objection to obviously." Fisk sounded like he was selling a used car.  
  
"How would you bring us to this new world?" asked Berry curiously.  
  
"I would take your abilities, and enhance them. Your powers are incredible for humans, but as we all know, they dull in comparison to the super-humans that are out there. Mutants, sorcerers, scientists. You are all but human, against these people, you would be powerless. Hopeless."  
  
"What do you suggest?" Oliver asked.  
  
"I can grant you what you need to be on par with them. However you choose. You can alter your genetic structure, add to your arsenal, whatever you wish to enhance your power." Fisk then held a hand. "Oh, I will have an immediate request of you. There is a young lady I would wish you assist. She is... foreign, and knows little of our ways. I was hoping you would help her grow into the force that all of you are."  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
"This is incredible!" Carter exulted. He flexed his new large wings. "I love this!" Carter had allowed his genes to be spliced so that he had the wings and senses of a hawk. He could now fly.  
  
"Tell me about it!" Slade Wilson called as he tried out his new robotic body. He had transferred his mind into a fully articulated android body that perfectly matched his own.  
  
"Sweetsweetsweetsweetsweetsweetsweetsweetsweet" called the red blur running around the room. The blur skidded to a stop. Berry pumped her hands into the air. She had had her metabolism sped up to such a degree, that she rivaled the legendary speed of the mutant Quicksilver.  
  
"Well I guess this stuff is pretty impressive," said Oliver with a frown. He picked up the super technology arrows he had been given. He had refused to let anyone do anything to his body. It was his bizarre sense of fairness playing around again.  
  
A door slid open and in walked a girl. She wore a purple skirt, and purple halter-top. Her eyes were a sparkling emerald green. Her hair was a bright flaming orange. Her skin also seemed to have an orange tint to it. She put her hands in front of her, her eyes darting around, yet never making contact with anyone.  
  
Fisk had been watching the young ones test out their new powers. He stretched his hand to the girl, "And this is the young lady I told you about earlier. Her name is Coriander."  
  
Carter and Slade picked their jaws of the floor, and moved to introduce themselves, but Berry beat them both to it. Berry zipped up to the young girl. "Hey there hot-stuff, I'm Strawberry Allen, but you can call me Berry just like everyone else, you cancallmeloverifyoulike."  
  
Oliver, who had managed not to game at the gorgeous new girl shook his head and said, "You'll have to forgive Berry. She had a diesel powered libido, even before her change."  
  
Berry stuck her tongue out at him, but smiled at the same time. Carter bowed to the girl, "I'm Carter Hall, it's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"I'm Slade Wilson," yelled the young hunter. "How are you?"  
  
The girl didn't even make eye contact. She hadn't made a sound. Her head was still bowed and she looked so scared.  
  
"You may speak Coriander," Fisk almost commanded.  
  
"Greetings. It is an honor to be welcomed so warmly to your world." Her voice almost squeaked.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid," Oliver said, concern falling over his face. He stood up and walked to the girl.  
  
"I'll leave the five of you to get acquainted. I shall return," Fisk said walking out with such a pompous air.  
  
"How may I serve you?" Coriander asked once Fisk had left the room.  
  
"Serve?" asked Berry. "Well I can think of a few ways," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows.  
  
"As you wish," Coriander said as she reached around to the fastener of her skirt.  
  
"Whoa!" Carter said stopping her hands. "She wasn't serious... at least I know she didn't mean right now."  
  
She looked up confusedly. "What do you wish me to do?"  
  
"What do you want to do?" asked Slade, still wishing she had finished disrobing. She looked to be older than any of them. At least seventeen.  
  
"I ... I want to go home," she said with tears starting to run down her cheeks.  
  
"Can't you go home?" asked Berry, in a rare serious moment.  
  
"No, my parents... they sold me to save the kingdom."  
  
"SOLD YOU?!" Carter exclaimed in disgust.  
  
"Yes, to save our world, my parents sold me. Then I was sold to Master Fisk" Coriander's explanation, though it sounded strange, sounded to the young teens like it just had to be true. "Master Fisk says that I have much to learn of this world. He says that in this part of your world, people cannot be sold. He says he bought me to free me... but on my world we have a saying... Rayshar Vok Tushar. New lord, same as the old." She wept openly now.  
  
"Why do you keep saying "World"?" asked Berry.  
  
"Because she's an alien," Oliver filled in.  
  
"What?" asked Slade.  
  
"You are from another planet aren't you?" asked Oliver.  
  
"Yes," she said honestly. "Weren't you told?"  
  
"No," said Carter.  
  
They spoke for some time when Berry brought up the topic of names. "You know, when those mutants and what-not get their super-powers, they take nick-names. Alternate names. We should do that too."  
  
"I don't know, if I should," Oliver said. "I don't really have any extra powers."  
  
"Neither does the Punisher," said Slade. "And he took a name."  
  
"Fine, whatever," Oliver relented.  
  
"What sorts of names will you be taking?" asked Coriander as she sat on the couch arm next to Oliver.  
  
"I know what my name will be," said Carter. "I'm Hawk-Man."  
  
"Oh! Oh! I got mine!" said Berry. She zipped out of the room and when she returned she was in a trench coat. "I am..." dramatic pause. "The Flash!" she opened her coat to Carter who proceeded to blush brightly. She zipped away and returned in a normal looking outfit.  
  
"Deathstroke," Slade said simply as he looked at the weapons in his built in arsenal.  
  
"That's awful grim," said Oliver.  
  
"You go with what works," he said simply. "And what about you, oh fearless leader?"  
  
"You guys pick," he said as he laid back into the couch.  
  
"Well judging by the way you play into your Irish heritage," Berry said, referring to his constantly green attire. "Maybe Robin Hood."  
  
"One; that's taken," he said. "Two; he was British. And three; I don't rob people."  
  
"Well given your talents, and attire," Coriander said. "Perhaps you should be called the Green Arrow?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," Oliver said with a shrug.  
  
"Thank you," Coriander said with a smile to him. Upon seeing the smile, Slade frowned. Jealousy crept into his heart.  
  
"What about you Cory?" Berry, now the Flash, asked.  
  
"Well with a head of hair like that," Carter said, "Maybe Fire?"  
  
"Naw, needs something more," Berry said waving her hand dismissively.  
  
"How about," Oliver suggested. "Star Fire?"  
  
She smiled at Oliver again, "That sounds really nice."  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Months passed, and Fisk flaunted his new team of teenage super- heroes. The Flash, Hawk-Man, Deathstroke, Green Arrow, and Star Fire became even bigger celebrities than The Predators had been. The press began calling them the Teen Titans.  
  
Unfortunately things were not as happy as they could be. Slade was angry, that the first new girl he had really gotten to know in a long time seemed, in his mind, to be falling for his oldest friend. Berry was sleeping with any celebrity who didn't mind an underage fling. Coriander was coming more out of her shell, but the truth was she was in love with Oliver. She clung close to Oliver at all times. Even in battle, where she proved to be quite strong, she was always near Green Arrow. Carter was always flying off, confused and distraught by strange dreams.  
  
It wasn't until Fisk ordered them to attack Spider-Man, that they objected. They ran. Deathstroke went off on his own. They were afraid of what he was going to do. He talked about going back to Fisk, or finding Punisher. All he knew was that he wanted nothing more to do with his oldest friends. 


End file.
